The Liaison
by Ink On Paper
Summary: An exploration into Ziva David beginning in 'Kill Ari' through Season 7.
1. Kill Ari I

When the steel doors yawned open, you were amazed by the silence –it was different from the silence at Mossad, where the quiet was eerie and eluded an ancient anger, an encoded since of vengeance for your homeland . . . . But here, the silence was pregnant with a fresh, raw, open sadness that was both tangible and potent. And the familiar drive for vengeance –you notice that too, you relate to that too.

As you take a step further into the room, you find that the grief in the air is nearly overwhelming –but then you are distracted by the man sitting at a desk, talking to himself and grinning like an idiot. So you wait patiently, partially because you believe he is the one you need to talk to, and partially because you are curious as to what his problem is. A few heartbeats and he notices you, pounding at the phone atop his desk, promising to call back the oblivion he was conversing with. And you are amused and so you speak the first sentence of many too the man before you. "Having phone sex?" And he is quick, this handsome stranger, for he concocts the most dismal excuse ever given and proceeds to back his elaborate story with the explanation of charades, which is a concept you are familiar with, but pantomime something to make sure your understanding this pathetic display correctly. You continue to ask simple, pointblank questions to see how far he is willing to protect his flimsy defense and are impressed with the ease in which he lies –though you see straight through the BS.

He grows irritated and ends the game, demanding to know who you are and so you tell him: "Ziva David. Mossad." And his response is, in hindsight, relatively predictable, "Your Israeli?" Sarcastically you praise him for his quick ability to connect the two and, eventually, the purpose of your visit is discussed, which is good, because you really need to speak to Agent Gibbs. And after you and he exchange a few more words, he formally introduces himself as Special Agent Tony DiNozzo –a fact that you were already aware of since you had run dossiers on the entire Major Case Response Team. He confesses that he was remembering his partner, consequently not playing charades –a shocker – and you precede this admission by riling him up with blatant sexual innuendos and though you do get a impressive response from him, he does again, become short and impatient.

"Miss David, you can sit there and slouch provocatively for an hour or you can tell me what you need and maybe I can help."

You decide to humor him and reveal your purpose –as if he'd help you anyway. "You can't help because I am here to stop Agent Gibbs from killing a Mossad officer."

"Ari Haswari?"

"Yes."

And when he beckons you closer with the crook of his finger, you lean forward and are met with a true hostility that you recognize.

"I'd wish you luck, but I want the bastard dead too." And it is here that you find the source of the sadness.

The elevator dings and you look up from where you lean against a filing cabinet, taunting and teasing Special Agent DiNozzo. A familiar face smiles at you as you greet her with a, "Shalom, Jen" and a kiss on her cheek as Special Agent DiNozzo confers with a stern, silver haired man you know to be Agent Gibbs. When Jen introduces you, you are completely aware that Gibbs not only hates you, he mistrusts you –but he relents, slightly, because, thankfully, he trusts Jenny and, coincidently, she trusts you. And then your cell phone rings and you excuse yourself and you answer it, relieved to hear a certain voice speaking Hebrew over the line. As you and Ari, now a wanted man, hash out his flight into exile, you cannot help but express your worry because, after all, you are more than his control officer, you are his sister and the twisted reality is, he's all you have left.


	2. Kill Ari II

Kill Ari Part II

You lean back into the leather of the seat, ignoring the slight tossing of the plane as it hits some turbulence, musing sadly about what all has transpired in the past twelve hours. . . .

You knew as you drove away from the Navy Yard that Special Agent DiNozzo had been assigned to shadow you, which you really don't care since you know how to do what you have to do without anyone –even highly trained American agents- ever catching on. So you decide to have some fun because you need a break and toying with the man two car lengths behind you has opportunely presented itself. You do your best to lose him amongst the heavy traffic clogging the busy street, eliciting a barrage of honking as you swerve into another lane, forgetting to flick your blinker. After a series of sharp turns onto various dim streets, he impressively remains on your trail, laying behind a white station wagon and telephone van. And you entertain the thought they maybe you didn't give him enough credit. . . .

Three hours later you take pity on him and call his bluff, stepping out under the hotel awning. He's leaning against a concrete pillar, holding a box of pizza, staring out onto the wet street, his thoughts miles away. You bring him a peace offering in the form of an espresso, because after all, you are not immune to his pain and its cold outside. He returns the gesture by rescuing the last slice of pizza and bestowing it to you, in which you respond, "Toda," and he replies, "Prego" and it was, oddly, nice. And you find yourself watching his face as he stares ahead and you chew your bite of pizza.

"I lost my little sister, Tali, in a Hamas suicide bombing. She was sixteen and the best of us. Tali had compassion. . . .After her death, I was like Gibbs, all I wanted was revenge," and you don't know why you are telling this strange American man this story that is so personal, so close to your heart, begging him to understand what you'll never say. He apologizes for your loss, and you know it is only a reflex –you too are sorry, but for total, different, parallel reasons. And then you depart with a "Lailah Tov."

Later you find yourself standing at the top of a staircase in an alien house, the walls still reverberating with the crack of a gun shot. Gibbs climbs the stairs, from the bowels of the basement, taking the hot firearm from your shaking hands. You blink back tears and the moment is surreal and you cannot believe what you just did.

You float down the stairs, an out of body experience, and you see him lying on the floor, unmoving, and you are met with the thought that he was there on second and gone the next. . . . So you sing the ancient prayer that should not be that familiar on your lips, standing over the warm body of your father's son, his blood pooling on the concrete, staining it and him and you crimson. You are vaguely aware that Gibbs has departed, giving you a courteous distance to pay your last respects. The weight of the Berretta is still a phantom in your hand and the echoes of a sick truth spoken by a dying man are nestled in your head. That your father is a monster, that what you are fighting for has become a hazy fog of half-truths and blatant lies, that you are dispensable, a tool, a puppet. And it is this thought that sickens you almost as much as the fact that the bloody hole in your brother's forehead was the result of your bullet, your gun, your finger that pulled the trigger. . . .

The plan rocks again, disrupting your raging thoughts, tossing you gently. And your heart cold, your gun is cold, and the body of your brother, laying in the cargo hold bellow, is cold too. And that is the horrible reality of life.


	3. Silver War

Silver War

You have received your orders and are now the single, common link between America and Israel, NCIS and Mossad, the truth and a myriad of shadowed lies. Deputy Director David accepts that you volunteer for the liaison position because who would be better than his own daughter, who would be better than the best? He naively believes that you want this job to help your country and maybe this is true, but your real motivation is you need an escape, you need the time to cipher the last gift that Ari ever gave you –the gift of confirmation that your father may not be an honest man. So you flee to America, a land of promise and strangers and Jenny Sheppard, who welcomes you with open arms. . . .

Gibbs is angry, which is understandable, because, after all, your last encounter with him was not the most cordial –granted, you saved his life, but also inherited the responsibility of Caitlin Todd's death, an responsibility which is justified because you were the one that let Ari off his leash. And apparently Jen did not inform him of his personnel change, but you can hardly be blamed for that communication error. As you go to make a graceful –or as graceful as any fallen angel can be- exit, the silver-haired marine follows you, wondering aloud why you were leaving when he distinctly recalled _not_ dismissing you and with a smile and well dealt slap to the back of your head, you are permitted to stay. However, he confiscates your weapon arsenal –your entire arsenal, for that matter. He does return your knife, though, with warning that he knows you have it.

You are given a hat with a hole (for ventilation, apparently) and direct orders to remain hands-off, observation only.

By the end of the day Gibbs tolerates you, Special Agent Dinozzo is silently terrified of you, Special Agent McGee is happy to have you aboard, Dr. Mallard –er, Ducky- is, well, pleased to see you, Abby Sciuto, the goth scientist that loves everybody, hates you with a passion. You nearly killed Special Agents McGee and DiNozzo driving home from a crime scene, failing to gain their understanding in the fact that one must drive fast to avoid possible ambushes and mortar attacks. Gibbs is not impressed by this excuse, nor the tinge of green on Special Agent DiNozzo's countenance.

Yet you are unspokenly forgiven for this transgression because you saved Dr. Mallard and effectively caught –killed- the murderer, proving yourself and your ability to wield your weaponry. Gibbs arrives with reinforcements and you go to your new apartment, happy.

You take the fact that you are allowed back tomorrow as a promising sign.


	4. Switch

Switch

Your morning did not start out in your favor: You spilt your coffee, effectively scalding yourself; took the wrong bus to some forsaken part of town full of lewd and vulgar men, one in which you promptly had to drop kick because he was attempting to solicit you; eventually you hailed a taxi and arrived at work tardy. Your explanation regarding your hellish morning was received without any empathy by Gibbs, who fixed you with a glare of ice, though you did evade a head slap.

In punishment for your delayed entrance to work, Gibbs appoints to you the task of interviewing the victim's wife, whose own horrible morning had undoubtedly surpassed yours, for she was the sole witness, via phone line, to her husband's murder. And while you are not socially inept, you are not entirely comfortable speaking to this woman, sitting in her car, in complete hysterics, for you are not exactly sure as to what you are supposed to say. Do you offer your condolences? Pass her a tissue? Pat her shoulder reassuringly? You decide against physical contact, and you haven't a Kleenex on you –and you distinctly remember at the last funeral you attended you wanted to strangle the next person to parrot, "I'm so sorry," when they so clearly didn't know the deceased. You settle for awkward conversation and a bewildered fish-out-of-water expression.

Later, you make another fatal mistake when you consult Jenny in regards to the case you are working on. And when Gibbs receives a call from the director, and you are horrified when he hung up on her, he steers you quickly, and angrily, into the elevator –which you now identify as the unofficial conference room of the MCRT. He growls words accusing you of what equates to treason, by-passing a link in the chain of command. Insulted and frustrated, you fire back that you were merely respecting authority, because you are not the moron you seem to have been pegged as and wish to be treated with some deference. After a brief war between you and him, each struggling for dominance and control of the emergency switch, an unspoken impasse is reached and you accompany him to another interview. You manage to avoid another potential head slap.

You're talking to fill the silence of the car, and he is blatantly ignoring you. You, however, refuse to be ignored, engaging him with questions and sharing bits of knowledge you inherited from your father (why on earth you say this you have no idea). Finally, Gibbs mutters something about needing to get his radio fixed and you silence yourself to save face.

Throughout the case you learn several things. Contrary to first impressions, Agent DiNozzo is terrible at charades, pantomiming something about pants and dancing while you watch an interrogation with him. Also, Americans have a dreadful taste in clothing, some men preferring to wear atrocious shirts in obnoxious prints (you make a mental note to ask Jenny who Magnum is, for his designs were unfamiliar to you). And in regard to all things American, you are coming to detest American colloquialisms and the idiosyncrasies of the English language.

Eventually the killer is captured as well as the victim's marmoset (you are beginning to notice distinct differences between NCIS and other government agencies –the marmoset doesn't seem to warrant much surprise). However, your greatest stride of the day? Coaxing the bitter Goth into letting you help her reassemble a suitcase that was blown to . . . . smithereens because, while you may not have a firm grasp yet on where you've found yourself at this point in your life, you are perfectly capable of solving jigsaw puzzles.

And despite the shortcomings of the day on your behalf, you are still permitted to return to work the following day. This impresses you even more than the marmoset manifestation.


	5. Voyeur's Web

**A/N: OK, so please no one count how long it has taken me to update this :^). . . . . I am attempting to fulfill my promise to you all and myself that I will update everything that must be updated by tonight, so here goes it. Wish me luck! Two chapters for the Liason down, quite a few to go. How'm I doing? Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: I only own poor time management.**

Voyeur's Web

You cannot decide which is more amusing (and predictable), the fact that DiNozzo has a partiality toward honey dust -which is, you suppose, good taste - or the fact that McGee was so incredibly easy to persuade into speaking of such things. Regardless, you are kept entertained all morning with these fascinating tidbits of information -mostly because they will provide excellent argumentative ammo.

Then a corporal's wife goes missing, a possible abduction case, and the fun is momentarily over for you find yourself an hour later walking across the street of a naval base to interview the neighbor. You assume that you either are assigned this task because a.) you are the newcomer or b.) you are the most socially inept. You decide to reason with the former.

The neighbor is a 'domesticated house husband' and saw nor heard a thing. Jamie Carr kept to herself and he wasn't the best of friends with the corporal. He was a pleasant enough man. You thank him and leave, the concept of yard sells still lost on you and the impression of zevel ze zevel still lost on the Americans.

Later, upon return to the bullpen, McGee remembers a video clip of a snuff hoax, which actually turns out to be legit and the extracurricular activities of Mrs. Carr involve a sex site operated from her bedroom. Apparently, the voyeur business is successful for another navy wife is also a member of the creative Naughty Naughty Neighbors. Unfortunately, when you go to talk to Mrs. Roberts, her house is found empty save her cat and ransacked living room.

You are thankful when you and Tony are sent to interview the site's webmaster. Because the lack of leads has left Gibbs in an extremely foul mood.

If you thought this morning was the highlight of today, you are quickly reassessing as you meet Carter Finch, the operator behind Naughty Naughty Neighbors, who, ironically, is a total turd. You and Tony find him in the his basement bedroom of his mother's house. In the company of Star Wars action dolls -sorry, action figures. However, you highly suspect that the plastic figurines are getting about as much action as Finch. Which is to say none. Finch assures you that he had nothing to do with the deaths, had no knowledge whatsoever of the snuff video, nor any idea as to where the money is. You return to a ill-tempered Gibbs, a frustrated McGee, and a porn-educated Abby.

Your computer refuses to cooperate and you miss the Mac systems of Mossad as you perform percussive maintenance , very nearly executing to your knife.

McGee finally finds the money trail and, shocker, Finch has gone over to the dark side.

You and Tony go to retrieve him and find him dead in the bathtub covered in hair dye and missing nearly half a million dollars. But Javier Christian 5 permeates the air as it did earlier in the case, this time Tony picking up the scent.

You assist in apprehending Jamie Carr, now a redhead, millionaire, and double-murderer. Abby calls to inform you that the snuff video really was a hoax -which was obviously apparent.

You end the day with a lovely dinner and relatively pleasant company.


	6. Jeopardy

**Jeopardy**

He was annoying, loud and crude and vulgar. He threw sarcastic jabs at Tony and was viciously prejudice toward you. And after three hours, you were very nearly ready to kill him. So when Tony bets you rock-paper-scissors (you swear Americans have the most bizarre customs) as to who gets to escort the pusher upstairs, you lose. And of course the drug dealer devoutly refuses to make this unappealing task easy, yammering and raving like a lunatic, boycotting your insistence that he board the elevator lest you use force -which you do. Just little love tap. To the jugular. That was all.

You scarcely notice when the metal doors slide open with a bright ding because you are crouched on the floor, attempting to revive your lifeless suspect. Gibbs is bewildered as you look up and pronounce him dead.

It isn't fair to automatically accuse you, you think, just because you are a trained Mossad assassin. You do have some control (you haven't killed Tony yet, after all) and you can exercise restraint. You've spent a year under Gibbs' tutelage and it isn't like you weren't listening. You are an investigator now, not singularly a killer.

You are chained to a desk, doomed to phone calls and paperwork, and right when you think today cannot grow any more dismal, Jenny decides to get kidnapped. And to make matters entirely worse, she is kidnapped by the head drug lord. And the ransom for Jenny is the man's heroin and his brother. Who is lying on a slab in autopsy. So now Gibbs pissed and your anxiousness is building up with no outlet because you are confined to the seclusion of the bullpen.

You've been on the line for two hours and the receiving end, the side with the vital information you need, insists upon placing you on hold. Again. And then McGee materializes, bringing with him a fruitless search and his sympathies, reassuring you that he, at least, is in your corner, believing in your innocence. And isn't that the law, innocent until proven guilty? But you digress, waving him off, refocusing his attention to the number one priority, the safety of Director Jenny Sheppard.

You visit Ducky and he listens patiently, clearly wishing that you were not in his refrigerated domain compromising yourself. When Gibbs strides in, you retreat to maintaining the phones and procuring two mugs of warm tea.

The bad guy calls, offering a final ultimatum: One hour, bring the brother and the drugs, one agent, no back up. And Jenny will be unharmed.

And you're the best shot, aside from Gibbs, so you finally are released from the dreary staleness of the bullpen, soon finding yourself riding in the backseat with a gun taped to your back, Tony's head is in the dead brother's lap and the dead brother is driving in a fashion that rivals your own. But really this doesn't surprise you. Nothing here surprises you anymore.

The big brother calls your bluff, and you end up laying on the dusty floor of a airplane hanger, hands cuffed behind your back, your gun having skidded to the far ends of the earth. You make eye contact with your friend and disregard the fear you see there. And then Tony pops the trunk and shots ring out and the bad guy collapses. And you drag yourself upward and go tend to her, but she is not hurt physically and is no longer afraid, now she just seems amusedly pissed. "It really is an interesting story. . . ."

Later the jury is in and it is concluded that you did not kill the suspect, he had a brain aneurism since birth that had finally reached its bursting point. His death was ruled as natural causes. You cannot tell if Gibbs is pleased or not, though you brush this off and go find Jenny, because she is in need of an amusing story tonight.

You knew how hard you hit the guy. And you knew where you hit the guy.

You can't decide though if NCIS is crazy for keeping you, or if you are really really lucky.


End file.
